


As You Wish

by psychopatch



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychopatch/pseuds/psychopatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Princess Diaries. This is not like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PROLOGUE

The sun was already beginning to set across the lands by the time Karen finally sat down to rest, casting the familiar, golden glow over the Kingdom that she’d had grown up with. She could see it from where she sat – in the large, plush armchair that had once belonged to her father before she’d married, facing the large, open windows that led onto the terrace – and the simplicity of the sight, along with the nostalgia it would perpetually bring, brought a small smile to her face. She’d only been a Queen for a short while, at least in terms of their family’s history; just over seven years by now, and thankfully, her parents’ guidance had allowed her to develop into one of the most beloved monarchs of the era.

Her family had ruled the shores of Ivany for centuries now, and although the island was small in relation to their allies, it wasn’t uneventful. The people held events and galas, celebrated the calendar of holidays with the upmost enthusiasm, and the tensions of the civil war from several decades ago all but dissipated by now. Her grandfather hadn’t been the kindest of rulers during his reign, and the people often revolted; but Karen’s father took to the throne immediately when his father had stepped down, and his kinder-yet-still-strict ruling eventually quelled the millions into peace. But the people of Ivany were no longer regarded as subjects by the royal family, especially under Karen’s rule; she took frequent visits into the main city, offered cash grants to the farmers and labourers that were struggling to support their families, and often attended the various festivals held within the kingdom.

And she was happy with her life now. Granted, it wasn’t necessarily always plain sailing: sometimes she or her husband would have to leave the shores on official business to England or America, or any one of their eighteen allied countries, and whilst her people loved her, there was always the occasional upset or disturbance that required her imminent attention; but those were few and far between, and for the most part, she was content.

Her musings were cut short, however, by the gleeful squeak and scream of a small child, followed by the equally joyous laughter of a grown man. Karen turned around suddenly to the source of the sound, and a smile instantly found its way onto her face. Stood in the doorway to the lounge was Arthur, the royal family butler and constant friend throughout her life, grinning broadly down at the little girl he had suspended upside down over his shoulder. Karen’s daughter giggled at the sight of her mother, and Arthur finally looked up to meet her eyes too. 

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a smile, before helping her daughter down safely onto both feet. Karen rose to greet them, and her daughter dashed towards her to hug her. 

“Hey, Arthur,” Karen murmured happily, then diverted her attention to her daughter, running a hand through her light hair. “And hello to you too, Alice!” She laughed in equal amusement, watching as the little girl stepped away slightly to beam up at her.

“Hi Mummy,” she giggled.

“Have you been playing nicely with Arthur?” Karen asked, crouching down to Alice’s level with a smile. Alice nodded keenly, turning back to Arthur for reassurance. 

“Uh-huh! We went to see the horses! I petted Daddy’s horse, and then we went to the lake and played tag! And—and then—and then we came back and got supper from Nessie, and then Arthur raced me back here—!”

“And I won!” he interjected with a grin from the door.

“No!” Alice protested with a frown. Arthur smirked at her, but Alice was insistent. “No! Mummy, he’s lying!” Karen laughed in response, lifting Alice into her arms, and then gave Arthur a playful look.

“Are you lying to your rulers, Arthur?” Karen asked, her voice slipping into the formal tone she often had to use on official business. She saw him surpress a grin, but he bit his lip and shook his head.

“No, your Highness!”

“What do we do with liars, Alice?” she prompted, and her daughter looked at Arthur with a mischievous grin.

“Dungeons!”

“No! Okay! Okay! I confess, I lost! I’m sorry, Princess!” Arthur groaned, frowning at them both. Alice wriggled to get down, and Karen dropped her to her feet. Arthur pouted then, watching as Alice skipped over to him to hug him around his middle.

“It’s okay. I like you. You don’t have to go to the dungeons,” she giggled into his stomach, and he responded with a laugh and a hug.

“Thanks, Alice.” 

“Come on, little miss,” Karen spoke up again then, forcing Alice to pull away from Arthur to look at her mother. “It’s bed time for you.”

“No! Mummy!” Alice whined, gripping Arthur tighter suddenly. “I’m six years old now! I’m a big girl!” 

“Future queens need their sleep, Princess,” Arthur mused, running his hands through the girl’s hair as Karen had done earlier. “And hey, I think Mummy wanted to tell you a bed time story…” he trailed off with a smirk, and Alice’s eyes lit up. 

“Really?!” she asked excitedly, turning to look at Karen. “Really?! You’ll tell me a bed time story!?” Karen gave Arthur a light scowl, but then smiled down at Alice.

“Absolutely.”

* * * * * 

Arthur walked with the two of them to Alice’s bedroom, pausing to bid them both a jovial ‘goodnight’, before taking his leave again to attend to the rest of his duties for the evening. Karen carried her daughter into the room, setting her down onto her own two feet so she could dash to her wardrobe to change into her pyjamas, and Karen opted to take a seat in the cosy rocking chair beside Alice’s bed. Alice returned a few moments later, clad in fluffy, bunny-printed pyjama top and bottoms, and climbed excitedly into bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin and giving her mother an eager smile.

“When will Daddy be home?” Alice asked quietly, her eyes still brightly shining. She always tended to miss him when he was away on official business, and Karen simply gave her a warm smile.

“Not long now. A few more days,” Karen told her. “Now, what story do you want to hear this time? We haven’t read Alice in Wonderland in a while?” she mused, her fingertip running over the spine of the book on the small bookshelf to the side of her chair. Alice shook her head though, and her mother raised her eyebrows curiously.

“Tell me the story of you and Daddy,” she giggled. Karen’s brow furrowed slightly, but Alice looked happily enthusiastic. “Please?”

“Really?” Karen asked, but gave Alice an amused look all the same.

“Yes! Please!” Alice beamed, gripping the edge of her duvet in her small hands. Karen laughed at her giddy movements, and slowly stood up from her chair to sit on the bed with Alice.

“All right, all right… but back when I met your daddy, princesses had their husbands picked out for them,” she explained. “But I’ll skip the boring parts,” she promised. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.” Karen smiled, and Alice curled up closer to her mother to rest her head against her arm. _“Once upon a time, there lived a princess in a big, big palace…”_


	2. CHAPTER ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apparently I suck at establishing things. Just as a general note, this story does take place in modern day. The country/setting/society is all entirely fictional, though, hence why the idea of arranged marriage isn’t entirely ridiculous or foreign to any of the characters. In fact, just imagine it’s like The Princess Diaries - except it’s Ivany instead of Genovia (i.e: the rest of the world exists around it).

Despite her best efforts to complain and rant otherwise, the kingdom of Ivany wasn’t all that bad. Although - with Karen being kept under extensive surveillance by the palace guards for the first eighteen years of her life and restricted to within the palace boundaries - she’d found a way to loathe it. Her parents meant no harm by it; being a princess wasn’t an easy feat outside the safety of the palace walls; but with Ivany being an entirely secluded island with no nearby enemies, and a population only just stretching to three million, Karen felt the constant security was a little excessive to say the least.

But regardless of her outlook on her country, it was a fairly peaceful existence for the rest of its citizens. The Gillan family had been the reigning monarchs for six generations, with her parents - King Raymond and Queen Marie - currently occupying the throne; their subjects liked them well enough, and with no whispers of discontent within a century, it had to be assumed that they were doing _something_ right.

The island itself was idyllic: a sweeping mountain range covered a sliver of the west coast, with pooling rivers of crystal waters throughout the hills, all connecting to the clear seas abundant with fish - of which helped keep the economy slowly plodding along with the flurry of fishermen. The summers were never too hot, the winters never too cold, and just enough rain fell annually to avoid floods and prevent droughts.

All-in-all, the terrain of the kingdom was stunningly picturesque… but still, Karen found herself bored.

Not that she viewed herself above her subjects, no. In fact, Karen often wished she could live amongst them. On the turn of her eighteenth birthday, the King and Queen had reluctantly permitted occasional, chaperoned excursions out of the palace - to Karen’s delight - but only ever as far as the Lords and Ladies’ district a few miles from the palace gates; never beyond. As aesthetically pleasing as the island was, crime and poverty was still present in small pockets of the kingdom, and the only interference from the monarchy they received were small, annual bursaries to quell any chance of a revolution.

Karen’s isolated childhood had left her with few friends. Namely: her butler, Arthur, and the two daughters of a Lord and Lady of which the King and Queen regarded highly, Billie and Jenna. She adored the company when she had it, but with Arthur constantly attending to his palace duties and the girls only visiting every so often (and even them, it was only to drink tea and chat) it left Karen feeling far from satisfied. She had things to keep her occupied in and around the palace, of course: tennis courts and libraries and horse paddocks and swimming pools (of which she couldn’t actually swim in) and acres upon acres of stunning landscapes. But when she could only experience these alone, the excitement was often dulled almost entirely.

Upon the turn of her nineteenth birthday, things went from bad to worse.

“Karen?” her mother called, hidden away in one of the private lounges and prompting Karen to stop in the corridor. “Karen, dear, come here, please.”

Karen poked her head through the door. “Yeah?” She was nowhere near as well-spoken as her mother was - but she wasn’t Queen yet, she didn’t need to be.

“Come inside, dear,” her father chided, ushering her pleasantly into the room. Karen nodded somewhat reluctantly, placing the book she’d just collected from the library on the nearby mantlepiece after stepping into the room. “Have you enjoyed your birthday?”

“I have, Papa.” Karen smiled, turning to face her parents. “Thank you for the gifts.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded, before glancing at his wife.

“Take a seat,” Marie prompted gently, sitting down on one of the two-seater sofas, and followed by Raymond. Karen obeyed without complaint, dropping down into the armchair opposite her parents. “Your father and I need to speak to you.”

The business tone. Karen knew that one. “Oh?” she encouraged with a polite smile. “About what?”

Raymond cleared his throat. “Are you aware of the tradition amongst princesses in our family, Karen?”

_Oh, God. This_ speech again. It had been tradition for centuries that each princess, whilst she is eighteen, would be married to a Lord or Prince in order to maintain the royal bloodline well before the current King and Queen surrendered the throne to their daughter. Karen had been reminded of the tale ever since her fifteenth birthday, and today - after her eighteenth had been and gone - Karen had assumed she was in the clear.

“I do, Papa,” she answered regardless, hands folded in her lap.

“Well, your mother and I believe that it’s time we enacted the tradition.”

Karen froze, eyes wide.

“Papa?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “What—”

“Now, Karen,” her mother cut in sternly before she could utter any protests. “Your father and I have been very lenient with you this past year to give you the chance to find your own suitor,” she explained. “And with no progress, we’ve taken it upon ourselves to act on your behalf.”

“But you _can’t!”_ Karen pleaded, standing up quickly from the armchair. “I don’t want to marry yet!—”

“Sit down, Karen,” Raymond demanded authoritatively. Karen found her knees betraying her as she slumped back into the cushions. “He’ll be visiting the palace next week to propose formally with our blessing after dining with us,” he told her firmly.

“Who?” Karen asked weakly, her voice lost in her throat.

“His name is John, the son of Lord and Lady Barrowman,” her mother smiled; Karen could’ve slapped her for even daring to look remotely pleased.

“He’s a fine young man, Karen,” Raymond continued, sensing his daughter’s dismay. “And he’ll make an ever finer husband and king.”

“Great,” Karen muttered, staring blankly ahead. “May I leave now, please?” she asked quietly, as if being polite and calm would change their minds.

“Of course, dear.” Her father chuckled, picking up her book from the mantel and handing it to her as she trudged past him. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair. Karen gave a polite, empty nod in response, before dragging her feet along the corridor to her bedroom. As she collapsed into bed, book abandoned on her dressing table, she could only pray that it had all been some silly dream conjured up by sitting alone in the library for too long or remnants of Arthur’s teasing about the family tradition.

Reality, unfortunately, granted her none of these miracles.

* * * * *

Day-to-day life in the palace had something of a routine to it, but each day always managed to differ slightly from the last; never in a significant enough way for it to be exciting, but enough to keep the inhabitants sane. Breakfast was served at nine o’clock, and the cleaners would begin their rounds at thirty minutes past; Raymond tended to retreat to his study after dining with his family to work on foreign relations and deal with any issues brought to him by his advisors, whilst Karen and her mother would dismiss themselves to one of the spacious lounges.

They never talked about much, usually just plans for the day, or recent news from beyond the palace walls; sometimes, they ignored conversation altogether in favour of reading a book in each other’s company.

Today, though, Marie seemed keen for an insight into her daughter’s life, and set aside her teacup on one of the nearby end-tables as they both settled into their respective seats.

“What’s on your agenda today, then, dear?” Marie began with a smile, one leg crossed over the other and her hands folded daintily in her lap – the picture of propriety.

“Oh, nothing much,” Karen said, resisting the urge to shrug (her mother had informed her time and again that it was un-ladylike). “Billie and Jenna are visiting this afternoon, I think.”

The two girls were Karen’s life support. They never did much together as a group, aside from perhaps a walk around the lake if it was a pleasant enough day, but their company and conversation suited Karen perfectly most of the time.

They were a breath of fresh air to her otherwise secluded life in the palace, and provided the outlet for a girly gossip that her butler – Arthur – couldn’t quite offer.

“Wonderful!” Marie chimed happily. “You’ll be able to personally invite them to the wedding!”

“Yes,” Karen replied, as neutrally as possible. “I’ll try to remember to.”

It had been just a few days since Lord and Lady Barrowman had visited with John and, after a formal dinner and introduction, she’d been proposed to in front of both sets of parents – which, unfortunately, made it somewhat difficult to decline. Although actually, John wasn’t quite as bad as Karen had expected. In fact, he seemed just as shy and reluctant as she did, and if she were someone else, she’d have been offended; instead, she was silently overjoyed. Whilst it could potentially provide an excuse for calling off the wedding, it also meant, in the meantime, that they got along fairly well in their mutual distaste for the whole idea. 

Which was better than marrying a stuck-up arsehole, Karen thought.

* * * * *

“So what’s he like?”

“Who?” 

_“John!”_ Billie stressed, holding her hands out in front of her as though it would make her question clearer. Karen laughed, relaxing back into her sun lounger and taking a sip of her cocktail.

“He’s all right,” Karen mentioned, her eyes closed behind her sunglasses as she took in the sunbeams. She was so pale that was unlikely she’d ever get a tan, but it didn’t hurt a girl to try. “He’s tall, dark haired. Seems sweet, I suppose.”

“You’re lucky you’ve at least got a husband lined up,” Jenna sighed from Karen’s other side, relaxed on a sun lounger of her own like the others. 

_“Lucky?!”_ Karen guffawed, shaking her head. “Please, I’ll gladly hand over the crown if you’ll marry him instead.” 

“You said he was sweet!” Jenna corrected, sitting up slightly to try taking in Karen’s expression.

“He’s sweet. Doesn’t mean I want to put a ring on it.”

“Oh, Kazza,” Billie sighed. “It can’t honestly be that bad. When’s the wedding?”

“No date yet,” Karen told her calmly, sitting up too and lifting her sunglasses up onto her forehead. “A few decades from now if I have anything to do with it.” 

Jenna and Billie gave her a look, both pairs of eyebrows raised and their mouths set into firm lines. Karen looked between them exasperatedly, before sighing with a grumble. 

“It’s not him that’s wrong, if that’s what you’re both thinking,” she told them. “I just don’t want to get married yet. I want to find someone I’m genuinely interested in who’s interested in me before I try spending the rest of my life with them.”

The three of them petered into silence, relaxing back into their sun loungers again and each taking small sips from their cocktail glasses. Karen was thankful, almost, that they hadn’t pressed it further; but the lingering, tense silence that now hung over them felt just as worse. She didn’t have any ammunition for conversation, though, and so simply watched reluctantly over the acres of grass and pastures still housed within the palace walls.

“Who’s that?” Jenna pointed out eventually, nodding out towards a small section of the fields, home to the palace stables and accompanying paddock. Sure enough, as Karen looked out again, there were two distant figures lingering by the stable doors, animated in conversation.

“That’s Russell,” Karen noted. Russell had managed the stables since before Karen had even been born, and whilst she wasn’t particularly close to him, she at least knew the vague necessities. “He’s retiring to go live back home, apparently. That’s probably the new stable-boy with him, Mum said we were getting one in before he left.”

“Is he hot?” Billie asked, and Jenna sighed in what had to be mild disappointment.

“Who, Russell?”

“The new stable-boy!” 

“No idea.” Karen shrugged. “Haven’t met him yet, and I don’t really plan to.”

“Are you still on your ‘I-hate-horses’ thing?” Jenna muttered with a small smirk.

“I don’t _hate_ them,” Karen retorted, crossing her arms somewhat petulantly. “They’re just big and unpredictable. My dad keeps trying to make me go out and ride a few times a week but I tend to just disappear by the lake for a few hours.” 

“Sly,” Billie mentioned with a giggle, and Karen actually joined in with a small laugh of her own this time.

* * * * *

Billie and Jenna stayed for the rest of the afternoon, before they were eventually requested home by their parents around five o’clock, and escorted out of the palace to be chaperoned away. The rest of the evening passed as they always did: dinner was served at six o’clock, the resident staff were dismissed at seven-thirty, and the rest of the night was free to do as anyone pleased.

Karen tended to busy herself in the library for an hour or two, tucked away in one of the cosy recliners in the back corner of the room. The library itself was a large hall, filled with bookshelves that extended to the ceiling over two storeys, and gave Karen the perfect escape from the rest of the palace throughout the day. 

Arthur, however, always knew where to find her.

It was turning 9pm by the time she heard the large doors creak open, signaling that he’d come to find her to escort her to her room for the night. Karen didn’t move an inch though, opting to stay pre-occupied with her copy of The Kite Runner for the few minutes it took for him to find her. 

“Princess!” Arthur shouted from the ground below her, glancing up at the balcony that surrounded the second floor in the hopes that she’d make his job a little easier. “It’s time to go!” 

Karen sighed in distaste, reluctantly dog-earing the page of her book, and setting it down on the table beside her so she could return to tomorrow.

“Coming, Arthur!” she called back, getting up from her chair slowly and making her way towards the spiraling staircase. 

“Thank you!” he chimed, hands folded behind his back as he waited patiently for her to reach him, a broad smile on his face. Arthur was always chipper no matter what time of day, and his positive outlook was what allowed him to be close to Karen on a much more personal level than as her butler.

She considered him a friend.

“I can find my room by myself, you know?” Karen announced when she’d reached him, following in step beside him as he led her from the room. “I don’t need you to take me.” 

“You know I’d lose my job if I allowed that, Princess,” he told her with a grin, letting her pass through the doors into the corridor before him.

Arthur had worked in the palace as the resident butler for just over five years now, and had quickly become a friend of the family with his jovial attitude and bright personality. He was a little less professional than was probably expected at the palace, but he was young – at the striking age of twenty-six – and the King and Queen granted him a bit of leeway because of it. Their previous butler, Thomas, had been Arthur’s brother, but he’d tragically passed away due to illness all too suddenly, leaving the family distraught. Arthur had stepped in to fill his shoes without complaint, and served the family in his brother’s name.

“Thanks, Arthur,” Karen spoke up as they approached her bedroom, pausing outside the door to give him a smile.

“You’re welcome, Princess,” he dismissed with a grin of his own. ‘Princess’ had become an ironic pet name for her over the course of their friendship, and Arthur was the only one who could get away with calling her it informally. “Sleep well.” 

“And you, mister,” Karen whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and letting him curve an arm around her waist in a brief hug. Arthur chuckled at the embrace, pressing a protective kiss to her hair before she pulled away, and then straightening out his suit and re-affirming his formal posture.

“Goodnight,” he said with a courteous bow, before turning and walking away to attend to his final duties around the palace. Karen watched him go fondly, waiting until he’d retreated around a corner before she stepped back into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She showered quickly in her en-suite before getting ready for bed, and then occupied an hour or so with sketching in a small notepad situated at a desk in the corner of her room.

By the time 10.30pm had rolled around, she was wrapped in the covers of her duvet, head against her pillow, sleeping soundly with the rest of the palace.


	3. CHAPTER TWO

“Papa…” Karen groaned for what must’ve been the seventh or eighth time that morning. It always tended to get like this when Raymond was leaving the palace to travel overseas: he’d be anxious to rush off as soon as possible, leaving the matters of his family – most especially his daughter – on somewhat of a backseat until he returned.

“Karen, please,” Raymond grumbled, as the various servants packing the king’s bags into the back of the awaiting car on the front driveway. “I don’t have time for your petty little problems. You’re princess, for God’s sake, act like one.”

“I’m bored!” she whined, crossing her arms petulantly across her chest. Raymond gave her a stern look, but Karen knew how to work around his anger by now; he wouldn’t dare risk being late to the airport, meaning he wouldn’t delay to shout at her. “You keep my locked up in the palace 24/7, Papa! Just let me head into the city for a few hours, please?”

“No,” Raymond muttered with finality. “You have plenty to do around the palace. Go tend to your horse, you haven’t paid any attention to it in weeks,” he suggested, his attention focused on signing an official documentation of his departure thrust into his hands by one of the staff. 

“I hate horses,” Karen mumbled under her breath. “And that horse hates me.”

“Go spend time with it, then!” he huffed. “You know how to ride a horse, Karen, don’t act so childish. If you cause any trouble with your mother whilst I’m gone, we’ll be having some serious words, young lady,” he told her, handing the clipboard and signature back to a passing member of palace staff, before climbing into the backseat of the Range Rover. Karen gave a frustrated groan as the vehicle pulled away down towards the palace gates, and a part of her was tempted to chase it down the driveway to slip out of the gates along with it. But there were too many guards posted at each exit, and it would only infuriate her parents more than she already did with her persistent requests to leave.

And although her father was right, there were plenty of things to do in and around the palace, she still got terribly lonely without anyone to do them with. She’d painted the lake a thousand times by herself in a variety of different media: watercolours, poster paints, acrylics, and she’d read most of the books in the vast library they had in the west wing of the palace; but the only company she ever kept was sparse: the infrequent visits from Jenna and Billie, and Arthur was never allowed to be impersonal around her during the daytime, especially when he had his own duties to attend to.

The only thing she steered clear from were the stables.

She’d learnt to ride at the young age of seven, and whilst she was decent at it, she didn’t necessarily enjoy it. Her irrational fear of horses had developed entirely at random, one day refusing to go near any of the animals, and she’d almost had a heart attack on her fifteenth birthday when her parents had presented her with her own royal horse. She’d let Arthur name it (Idris, after his grandmother) and had seen it a couple of times over the four or so years it had resided at the palace, but never on her own accord. It was most often her father who pressed her to do it – said that horseriding was very ‘princess-like’, which only drove Karen to hate the prospect of it even more. 

But the stables were where she found herself half an hour after Raymond’s departure. Unlike the rest of the palace, the stables were constructed simply of reinforced wooden logs, giving it a somewhat natural, authentic feel that Karen wasn’t entirely used to; and although she didn’t like what the stables contained, she liked the structure itself – the wooden smell, the musky lingering of dust around her ankles – they were all commodities she rather enjoyed.

Idris was in one of the end stalls upon entering the building. She was a fairly big horse, a Clydesdale, one of the working sorts Karen had seen on the farms in her very, very, very rare official visits out of the palace with her parents, with large white blotches on her otherwise brown coat, and a mane of blonde strands handing over her face and draping down one side of her neck. Although Karen didn’t like horses, she could at least admire the beauty.

“Hi,” Karen murmured as she approached the horse. There were several other stallions and foals in the ten or so other stalls aside from Idris’, but they all seemed preoccupied with nibbling at oats and odd bits of hay. “Um, what’s up?”

Idris lifted her head up at the sound of Karen’s voice, shaking her head slightly to shake the stray bits of straw from her mane. Her ears pricked up curiously, and Karen simply sighed.

“I’m talking to a fucking horse,” she mused. Thankfully with her father gone and her mother somewhere in the depths of the palace, she didn’t have to watch her language. She stepped away from the stalls to glance along the length of the stable, frowning at the lack of staff. There weren’t supposed to be many anyway, apparently only one stablehand to tend to the horses, but where the hell was he? Karen shook her head, spotting a metal bucket filled with oats hanging off a large hook on the wall behind her, and scooped a few into her hands. She turned back to Idris and held her palms out, and the horses instantly began to take them from her hands. “Your lips tickle,” she pointed out with a quiet laugh, and Idris’ front left hoof scraped on the floor. Karen liked to think that was a form of communication, but in reality, she didn’t know shit about horses aside from how to ride them.

Which brought her to her next thought. Her father had suggested riding around in the paddock for a while to keep her occupied, and Idris didn’t seem to be trying to nibble or bite her fingers off, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad as to try it. There was a kit room closed off by a door on the opposite side of the stable, and Karen’s horseriding instructor as a child had drilled it into her brain how to tack up a horse for riding.

Idris finished off her oats after a few minutes. Karen brushed the remaining crumbs onto the concrete beneath her feet, and then gave the horse a glance. “Are you gonna be nice if I go get a saddle?”

The horse snorted lightly. 

Karen had to giggle quietly at the apparent response, before making her way down to the kit room. The door wasn’t locked, and it pushed open with a light creak as she stepped inside. Each horse had its own set of reins, saddle, blinkers, and the décor that adorned them on official outings, and Idris’ set was found in the personal collection at the back of the room, along with her parents’ own horses’. Normally, her father would’ve obviously expected the stablehand to tend to tacking up the horses for riding, but Karen didn’t mind it. She liked actually getting her hands dirty for once, and it felt a hell of a lot more rewarding doing things for herself for once.

She grabbed the saddle and underblanket from its perch, exhlaing suddenly with its weight in her arms, and then took the reins off of their hook to carry them back through to the stalls. As she approached the door though, her brow furrowed slightly. Her arms were entirely full of the leather equipment, and the door had naturally shut with its weight on his own. Karen sighed.

All of a sudden though, the wooden door swung open, sending her stumbling back slightly, and the weight in her arms managed to overbalance her and send her sprawling to the dusty floor with a squeak.

“Shit! Shit, I mean—shit, sorry—!” a panicked voice came from above her, and after a scuffling and shuffling of feet, the saddle was picked up from her arms along with the accompanying reins and under-saddle. “Princess, oh my god—”

Karen groaned, lifting herself up slightly into a sitting position, and then glanced up at the source of the voice. It was a fairly young boy (well, man) in what looked to be his early twenties, with a large mop of brown hair falling somewhat adorably across his eyes; those eyes were currently wide-eyed and staring down at her, pained concern present in his expression.

“Who are you?” she asked, still a little dazed from the fall. 

“I’m the stablehand, um—” Stablehand muttered, holding his hand out towards her. “May I?”

Karen slid her hands into both of his, and he helped her up onto her feet carefully before scratching the back of his neck. “I got that, but I meant what you name was.”

“Oh!” Stablehand looked apologetic again. “Sorry! Princess—your Highness—” He obviously hadn’t been around the presence of the royal family much yet. “I’m Matthew. Or Matt, your choice, obviously, um—”

“Matt,” Karen nodded, then dropped his gaze to brush the dirt from her dress. It wasn’t a particularly important article of clothing, but Matt was still looking terrified. “You don’t have to look so scared, y’know?” she told him, amusement in her tone.

“Oh,” he nodded quickly. “Right, of course, sorry—and sorry for sending you flying, I didn’t mean to—I was just upstairs and I heard the door down here open—”

“Matt!” Karen laughed again, shaking her head. He looked positively embarassed, and scratched his jaw anxiously. “It’s fine, okay? Calm down.”

“Okay. Sorry, princess.”

“You’re all right to call me Karen,” she informed him with a smile, picking up the reins from where he’d deposited them on a nearby bench. “Not on official business, you see. 

“Right, right.” Matt nodded again, clearing his throat. “Oh! Here, let me—” he muttered quickly, taking the saddle into his arms before Karen could. “Were you planning on riding this afternoon?”

“I was hoping to,” Karen said, leading the way out of the tack room with only the reins in her hand. “I just need to kit the horse up, that’s all.”

“Idris is yours, right?” Matt asked from behind her. He’d obviously been through a crash course of which horse belonged to which royal, and Karen spared him the agony of waiting by nodding. 

“Yeah, I don’t see much of her though. I’m not too fond of horses, to be honest.”

“Oh. Why?” he prompted. Karen stopped in front of Idris’ stall again and glanced at him, and Matt immediately went to apologise for asking such personal questions. “Sorry—” 

“Don’t be.” Karen grinned. “I dunno, really. I just don’t trust them. They’re too… big, and scary, I think.” She shrugged, and Matt simply nodded beside her. 

He didn’t say another word for a moment, simply stepping into the stall and mounting the saddle onto the horse, and then turned to Karen again. “Fair enough. They’re not too bad once you get to know them, though,” he told her, managing a small smile at that, and one that Karen was all too happy to return. “Do you want me to do the reins?” 

Karen glanced down at the leather contraption she still had in her hands. “Oh! Yeah, if you want,” she said, handing it over the half-wall of the stall, and giving him another smile as he took it. “How long have you been here? No offence, but you’re not Russell.” Karen turned away to start pulling on more appropriate riding boots than her current shoes. Matt nodded in understanding.

“This is my second week,” he told her, waiting for Idris’ mouth to open before slotting the bit-ring in. 

Ah, so that’s who she’d seen with Billie and Jenna from the patio the other week.

“Having fun?” she asked, boots firmly on her feet and even a helmet perched on her head, her arms crossed on top of the wooden half-wall between them, and her chin resting on her forearms. Matt shrugged, but gave her a smile.

“It’s all right. Pays the bills, I suppose.” His eyes widened slightly then, and he quickly met her gaze again. “Not—not that I’m ungrateful for the job! I mean, I do like it, it’s good, I just meant—” His rant was cut off by Karen’s laughter again, and his face dropped into an expression of absolute confusion. 

“Matt, stop apologising. I’m not your boss, ‘kay?” she managed through residing giggles. “I’m just like you, honestly. I swear like a sailor and I’m bored as fuck most days. Don’t treat me like a princess, please? Just treat me like Karen.” 

“Like Karen,” he repeated. 

“Like Karen.” 

“Okay,” Matt agreed with a smile, then turned to Idris to pat her just above her shoulder. “She’s all ready for you now. I can lead her out to the paddock if you like?” he offered, but Karen shook her head. 

“No, it’s fine,” she assured him, stepping back as he led the horse out of the stall. “You can give me a leg up though?” she suggested, and she was sure she saw his cheeks flush before his head ducked, his hair falling into his face.

“Of course,” he muttered politely, bending his knees slightly, and cupping both hands together just beside the stirrup. Karen placed left her foot into his awaiting palms, and swung opposite leg over quickly as Matt gave a quiet grunt of effort to lift her over. “Thank you,” she chirped, taking the reins in her hands, and looking down at him. 

“You’re welcome,” Matt told her with something of a coy smile. “I’ll um—I’ll be here when you get back, just give me a shout. My room’s actually upstairs,” he noted, glancing up the small, wooden staircase in the near corner of the room that led up to the other level of the stable. “So I’ll hear you.”

“Thanks, Matt,” Karen repeated with a smile, and he waved her off politely as she lightly kicked the horse with her heel. Idris set off at a walk out of the stable, Karen perched somewhat cautiously in the saddle, and Matt retreated upstairs to his room.

The ride was surprisingly fairly pleasant, Idris maintaining the walking pace for a while at Karen’s leisure. There wasn’t a strict ‘paddock’ really, either, just a few acres of open fields with the occasional centuries-old tree dotted about here and there, but there’d be no way she’d be able to cover it all in one sitting. And she didn’t want to; she quite liked the relaxing movement of the ride, and Idris seemed content to plod along happily. Eventually, Karen felt a little braver in the saddle, and her heels once again tapped the horse in the sides; Idris picked up pace into a steady trot, and Karen began the movement that had been taught to her all those years ago. It was strange to think she hadn’t forgotten any of it after so long, and it brought a slightly excitable smile to her face.

And then everything went wrong.

There was a public hunting ground just outside the walls of the palace, though separated by a small wall of forest, and apparently, today was one of the hunting days. A shotgun sounded in the distance, but the sound was enough to spook Idris into a panic, and she whinned in terror. Karen’s heart was racing in her chest already.

“Shh, it’s okay—it’s okay—shit!” She’d tried to calm the horse down, but another resounding boom from over the wall had Idris rearing on her hind legs, sending Karen sprawling out of the saddle and five or so feet to the ground below. Despite her helmet, her back of her head still whacked the dirt pretty hard, and she blacked out almost instantaneously. 

* * * * *

_“Princess…..? Karen…… Karen…..?”_

A faint voice was drifting in and out of her ears, and with it, came a suddenly throbbing headache. Karen groaned at the pain, sitting up suddenly from wherever she was laid, and lifted a hand to the source of the pain at the back of her skull; instead, she found someone else’s hand, and a wet rag pressed against her hair. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, her senses a little distorted and numb, and found Matt stood just off-centre in front of her. “Matt?” 

“Welcome back,” he murmured, giving her a kind smile. Her eyes fell closed again, but Matt’s fingertips pressed against her jaw had them force open. “Stay with me a minute,” Matt told her gently, his other hand still holding the rag firmly to the back of her head. “Here, keep this pressed down,” he instructed, waiting until one of her hands had joined his at the rag, before standing properly in front of her and meeting her gaze.

“What happened?”

“You fell,” Matt told her with a somewhat amused smile. “I saw you from the window and came running out to get you. Idris is fine, by the way. Relaxing downstairs with a tub of apples to keep her happy. How are you?”

“Headache-y,” Karen sighed, her eyes fluttering closed again as she winced at the pain at the back of her head.

“Hey, hey, eyes open,” he prompted, lifting his touch to her jaw again. “Focus on my finger?” he asked, holding up a finger on his free hand, and moving it slowly side-to-side in front of her face. Karen followed it with her eyes, and then groaned quietly in pain again as he dropped it back to his side. “You don’t seem to have a concussion, at least.”

“Thanks, doctor,” Karen smirked, meeting his gaze. “Where am I, anyway?” she asked suddenly, looking at her surroundings for recognition. 

“Upstairs, in the stables,” he informed her. “I didn’t think it appropriate to give first aid in the middle of a field, or in front of an audience of horses.” Matt chuckled, and if Karen was a little more with-the-world, she’d have probably found it a little bit cute. She realised she was laid across a ratty old sofa though, and eventually pulled the rag away from her head to look at it.

“No blood?” she queried, frowning at the cloth.

“Thankfully not,” Matt said. “Your helmet stopped you from whacking your actual head on the floor. It’s just going to be a bit sore for a bit, I reckon. I’d get it checked by a professional.”

“Mmh…” Karen mumbled. “Will do. Can you go get Arthur? I think I need a proper lie-down,” she sighed, and Matt hesitantly helped her lie back down on the sofa. 

“Arthur’s the butler, right?” he mused, and Karen nodded, her eyes closing again. “I’ll go see if I can find him. Don’t move from here, though, okay? Don’t need you falling down the stairs and knocking yourself into a coma.” 

“Yes, doctor,” Karen humoured him. Matt laughed, hovering for another moment or two, and then disappeared down the stairs when he was sure she wasn’t about to wander off.

* * * * *

That was the last she saw of him that day. When she opened her eyes again, she was wrapped in the duvet of her own bed, with some painkillers, a glass of water, and one of her favourite chocolate bars on her bedside table.


	4. CHAPTER THREE

“Pale blue or pale pink?”

“Can’t it just be white? Like a _normal_ one?”

“Karen! This is royal tradition! Your subjects wear white, you get the luxury of colour in your wedding dress.”

Karen gave a resounding sigh, slumping back into the lounge chair, and jutting her lower lip out to blow a loose strand of her red hair away from her face; that, and it made her look all the more petulant, and embarrassed her mother all the more.

“Oh, Karen, _please,_ ” Marie chastised, giving the tall, young man sat beside Karen – with an adequate space between them - an apologetic smile, before turning back to her daughter. “There’s no need to behave like such a child. You’re a grown woman.” 

“So? He’s marrying me regardless,” Karen shrugged, flicking her hand to her right, at a flushed looking John. 

“It’s quite all right, your Highness,” he spoke up politely, giving her a bashful smile, and then glancing at Karen. “I do think it would do us all some good if you were a little more co-operative, Karen,” John mentioned, raising an eyebrow and giving her a hopeful smile when she looked at him. Karen held his gaze for a moment, and then sat up with a sigh. 

“Fine. Blue,” she decided finally, although without much thought behind it. 

The stewards that were holding each example of the wedding dresses gave curt nods and dashed out of the room to give the three of them their privacy again, and no doubt to tick the dress off on the list of Wedding Things To Do that her father had given them. Raymond was still away on official royal business, missing out on most, if not all, the wedding preparations. Lucky bastard, Karen thought.

Marie cleared her throat as the door closed behind the stewards, and straightened her posture before glancing at Karen and John again. “I’m going to go find Arthur and get him to fetch us some tea,” she announced, with a pleasant smile in John’s direction as she rose to her feet; Karen got a subtle look. “I’ll let you two chat, get to know one another a little better!”

And with that, she was gone.

Silence lingered for a few seconds, before John fidgeted in Karen’s peripheral vision: scratching his neck and fixing the collar of his dress shirt, and then cleared his throat. 

“So,” he began. Karen tried not to wince. “Are you excited?”

Karen spared him a glance. “For the wedding?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you want the honest answer, or the answer I’ve been brainwashed with by the palace’s publicist?” Karen retorted. She felt a little guilty for being so harsh and biting with her comment afterwards, but John gave her a grin.

“The honest one. Might as well start as we mean to go on.”

“Then, no, I’m not,” she replied. “…sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t be,” John waved her apology away. “It’s natural for you to be uncertain. I promise you I’m not that bad, though. I’ll put the toilet seat down, I swear!”

Karen had to give him credit. He was funny in his own charming way. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” she rallied back, giving him a smile, before shifting a little closer to him on the lounger. She’d purposely sat a mile away from him for the sole purpose of irritating Marie, but really, John wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t his fault he was forced to marry her, and so far – as he’d said – he didn’t seem all that terrible a choice for a husband, really.

That was as far as their conversation got. Marie returned mere seconds later with Arthur in tow, carrying a silver tray engraved with floral patterns and home to a fine china teapot, three teacups, saucers, sugar bowl, milk jug, and teaspoons. 

“Thanks, Arthur,” Karen smiled, sitting forwards as he set the tray on the table in front of them. John glanced at her and followed suit. Arthur gave a small chuckle, and John looked up with a smile.

“Yes, thank you,” John added.

“You’re welcome, sir,” Arthur replied, and then glanced at Karen. “Princess. Ma’am,” he continued, nodding finally at Marie, before dismissing himself from the room.

“Nice chat, you two?” Marie asked as she poured the tea, eyes focused on the teapot and cups, but a knowing smirk on her face.

“I think so,” John replied with a small laugh, glancing at Karen - and as he slipped his hand into hers between them on the lounger, she didn’t protest.

* * * * *

John left later than afternoon, and after a flurry of dismissive kisses-on-cheeks and polite exchanges of words and _‘we can’t wait for your next visit’_ s, Karen was left alone again. Marie immediately went off to the main gates to make an official visit to the opening of an orphanage in the city, and so Karen had to make do with keeping herself occupied; it wasn’t so bad, though. Jenna and Billie were arriving in an hour or two, and had been permitted to stay for dinner until the late evening.

Filling the void between now and then proved difficult, however, and she found herself wandering aimlessly around the palace gardens praying for a spark of inspiration or motivation to do something otherwise. But the walk itself was nice enough, surrounded by various flora and wild birds, and the sounds that accompanied the latter. After a good fifteen minutes, the gardens eventually thinned out into the grand lawns than bordered the palace walls, and Karen stopped – finally – to inhale deeply and plop herself down on a nearby bench. 

She could see for miles from this spot – as she’d discovered around the age of thirteen. The walls of the palace weren’t entirely ‘walls’ in reality: pale brickwork rose about ten feet in the air, spanning for twenty meters across before they were met by a taller brick column, but the smaller walls were topped with black, metal spires, creating a fence that heightened the ‘wall’ by another two or three feet. The formula was then repeated for the entire perimeter of the palace, save for the main gates. But the gaps in the metal spires above the brick walls meant that you could see beyond the walls, and from where Karen was sat, the mountain range could be seen – pale and faded purple in the distance, but still dominating the landscape.

But her gaze was prematurely dragged away from the mountains by a yell in the distance within the palace walls. Karen looked towards it immediately, and her eyes fell on a small figure in the distance jogging around after one of the horses in the pasture. A small smile tugged at her lips. The figure was trying to chase the horse back into the stables, probably for their daily grooming and health check, but the horse in question seemed to be having none of it. It trotted around jovially as the figure dashed after it, and a giggle forced itself past Karen’s lips as the figure slipped, landing in the grass, and disappearing from view.

Karen hadn’t seen Matt since that afternoon in the stables a few days ago, but now seemed as good a time as any. She needed a distraction still, and he was fun to chat to. But she needed some excuse. She couldn’t exactly wander over to the stables with no intention of riding the horses (something she didn’t plan on doing for a while), the talk would reach the palace almost instantly, and no doubt lead to an irritable Marie batting away the flying rumours. Karen mulled it over for a moment, before a broad grin split on her face. 

* * * * *

“Arthur?” Karen called as she entered the palace. She was in the west wing by the kitchens via the doors in the gardens, and happened to catch sight of her lanky best friend making his way down the corridor by sheer coincidence. “Do me a favour, would you?”

“Who do you think I am? Your butler, or something?” he teased as he paused to look at her, before ambling his way over with a grin. “Sure, what can I do?”

“You’re shagging one of the kitchen staff, aren’t you?” she asked, and Arthur almost choked.

“Karen!” he scowled, quickly looking down the length of the corridor and behind his own back. “No! I am not!”

“But you fancy one of them,” Karen probed, and Arthur closed his eyes with a defeated huff.

“That’s beside the point. What do you want?”

“I need you to ask your girlfriend to whip me up a few sandwiches. I’m taking them down to Matt in the stables for a thank-you lunch.”

“A thank-you lunch?” Arthur queried, his brows knitting together slightly. “Matt?”

“Yeah, you know. For saving me in the field the other day.”

“Ah,” Arthur nodded, a playful smirk on his lips. “Sure, I’ll ask Ines to get your boyfriend a packed lunch.” 

Karen let the comment go – she’d deserved it, she supposed. She followed Arthur wordlessly down the corridor, then through the dining hall to the kitchen on the other end. She’d been to the kitchen a few times herself, but she didn’t know the staff like Arthur, and she’d rather the task of making a plate of sandwiches be a favour than an official job. 

“Ines?” Arthur called as they pushed open the door to the kitchen, and a petite girl popped her head around one of the large, metal worksurfaces.

 _“Yeeeeeees?”_ she sang, twirling into full sight of them both, but once glance at Karen had her voice faltering and her movements stumbling. “Princess Karen! I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you—“

“You’re fine, Ness,” Arthur laughed, and Karen gave a smile in agreement. “We just need you to do a favour for us, that’s all.”

“Sure, anything,” Ines nodded, glancing at Karen again with an eager smile.

“How quickly can you throw together a few sandwiches?” This time it was Karen who asked, and Ines gave a gleeful clap before twirling to her workspace again.

“I’ve trained my whole life for this!” she told them both enthusiastically, and Arthur and Karen had to laugh at her jovial attitude. “Give me ten minutes, I’ll have an assortment done for you for you to take away.”

* * * * *

Arthur left Karen to make her own way to the stables, with his other duties within the palace claiming his immediate attention. She made her way through the lawns at a leisurely pace, armed with a wicker basket of sandwiches – ham, jam, cheese, beef, and egg mayonnaise - and when she finally stood in the open doorway of the stable, it appeared Matt had finally rounded the horse – Idris, by chance – into the building as well.

“Having fun, there?” Karen chirped from the doorway, and in surprise, Matt jumped with a squeak and dropped the brush he had wedged onto his hand by the leather strap. 

“Your highness!” Matt exclaimed, hurrying to pick up the brush and dust the bits of straw away that had stuck to it. “Jesus, you scared the living daylights out of me.”

“My bad,” she laughed, skipping inside, and placed the basket on the wooden table beside him that had previously been strewn with other grooming tools. “I brought lunch!”

“Lunch?” Matt seemed just as surprised by the gesture as Arthur had been, and gave Idris a light pat on the nose before setting her brush aside and giving Karen his full attention. “What for?”

“I never said thank you for looking after me the other day,” she stated, and Matt instantly shook his head and took a step back, his hands held up.

“No, no, no, Karen,” he protested, shaking his head. “It was fine, it’s part of my job to take care of you when you’re on the horses. Please, I can’t accept this—“

“Oh, get over it, Matt,” Karen waved his dismissal away, pushing the basket towards him. “You won’t get in trouble for this, y’know? You’re allowed to talk to me, you won’t get hanged for it,” she teased.

“I—I know, but…” Matt tried, but his pleas naturally fell short. “Fine. What’ve you brought?” he asked with a defeated sigh, taking his place beside her again and digging his hand into the basket for a lucky dip. She let the silence linger, keen for the selection to remain an enigma, and as he pulled out a sandwich at random, his face split into a grin. “Egg! With—with cress and everything!” he beamed, quickly unwrapping it from its cling-film confines. 

“A favourite of yours?” Karen asked with an amused smile, and Matt nodded through a mouthful.

“Mmmmm,” he mumbled, trying to eat, keep his mouth closed, and speak at the same time. Karen raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly against the table with her arms crossed, and Matt hastily swallowed and licked his lips clean before speaking again. “Sorry—yeah, yes, they are. But I haven’t had them for ages. We used to have eggs all the time where I lived because we had chickens, but we had to sell them when my dad—” Matt stopped short then, his mouth still parted, as if the breath had been sucked out of him.

“Matt?”

Nothing. Then, “Yeah, sorry,” he murmured, shaking himself back to reality. “Sorry, just… rough memory, that’s all. Anyway! As I was saying!” he continued, the previous jovial excitement back in his tone, but the enthusiasm didn’t quite match the look in his eyes. “I haven’t had them for ages, so thank you. I love it,” he grinned, glancing down at the entire basket, then back at her.

“You’re welcome,” Karen said with a smile. “Don’t keep them all to yourself, idiot,” she added affectionately, reaching into the basket to pull out a ham sandwich. Matt let out a yelp and tried to bat the sandwich out of her hands, but she turned away from him with a squeal of laughter to try stuff half of it into her mouth before he could.

Karen had almost forgotten that Jenna and Billie were even visiting later, but Arthur came to collect her eventually anyway.


End file.
